I was just into the third song of my play-list when Aditya, one of my department juniors came and handed me an envelope full of my share of Dopy pics for this BOSM. After one last check to make sure no more of my happily single and coupled wingees had billed me for random snaps, I sat down to have a look at them.
The last two months in this dark, desolate part of the country has been perhaps one of the most exhausting of my college life till now. Quite a big thing to say, considering the fact that this is supposed to be the easiest semester for a BITSian. But the combined effect of 8 courses, (and the weird concoction of very screwed up and very nice tests that follows), a sports fest and an attack of acute homesickness is enough to leave anyone gasping for breath.
Its 3:00 in the morning. The last shots of the Counter-Strike guns are resonating in the adjoining wing as my weird play-list of Simon and Garfunkel, Evenescence, Porcupine Tree and Avril resonates in the empty corridors of my own dark wing. Insomnia can be a very enriching experience, I realize as I have a rather fascinating conversation with my toothbrush on the depth of the universe.
Weird how simple pictures can haunt you as motifs in their own right, as they talk to you. I have just spent the last half an hour arranging and rearranging my 33 snaps in my empty albums. After sleepily arranging them top-down, the meticulous side of my sleep-deprived brain kicks in. I arrange them all again, in the proper fashion. I wanted symmetry in the album. But I guess that has to be forsaken for the need of 3 more snaps. Funny how the symmetry is never there when I want it to be there.
I know I am not making any sense. I can see my fingers randomly moving on the keyboard, following the inspiration of some unknown Calliope. Calliope. Muse of Homer himself. Talk about a Neil Gaiman hangover. Its October 2nd right now. I just realize that. It’s a double treat for me. It’s a double birthday bonanza- my dad and the country’s dad. Hell, I feel like giving someone bumps. Maybe I’ll go up to the Patel statue in the chowk just adjoining my hostel and give him (him or it, it or him?) sidie-bumps. That’ll be a grand encore of a day 3 years back when some brilliant souls did the same thing.
An album full of neatly arranged pictures. A huge loping grin on an unshaven face with a million expressions. And what an assortment of pictures!!! ‘ I was there in Budh when Soumyadeep was getting murdered’ snap, ‘We love Baski-matches’ snap, ‘Blogging Team forever’ snap, ‘Bong Bros Rock!!!’ snap all the way to ‘Why the fuck are you taking my snap?!?’ snap … A montage of happy memories in underexposed flashlights…
I just took a nice little walk in my corridor again. Complete silence with the last imaginary grenade having been thrown some time back. I can see the lonely statue of Patelji standing in the middle of the chowk all alone. In the yellow light. That’s weird. I could have sworn he was head-banging to ‘Losing my Religion’. I wanna just go out and join him( I think it should be ‘him’, ‘it’ just sounds funny).
I haven’t slept in ages. Am I dead? Or am I just screwed up? The clock reads 3:40. What should my response to that be? 40 minutes nearer to salvation? Or 40 more minutes of wasted existence?
Fuck all that. Time is an over-hyped concept anyways...
But I think I’ll sleep now...
